Часть текста: tiles. All this today is obsolete, I really don't know why; and anyway it was a matter 12 of very little moment to my friend, since he yawned equally amidst modish and olden halls. III He settled in that chamber where the rural old-timer had for forty years or so squabbled with his housekeeper, 4 looked through the window, and squashed flies. It all was plain: a floor of oak, two cupboards, a table, a divan of down, and not an ink speck anywhere. Onegin 8 opened the cupboards; found in one a notebook of expenses and in the other a whole array of fruit liqueurs, pitchers of eau-de-pomme, 12 and the calendar for eighteen-eight: having a lot to do, the old man never looked into any other books. IV Alone midst his possessions, merely to while away the time, at first conceived the plan our Eugene 4 of instituting a new system. In his backwoods a solitary sage, the ancient corvée 's yoke by the light quitrent he replaced; 8 the muzhik blessed fate, while in his corner went into a huff, therein perceiving dreadful harm, his thrifty neighbor. 12 Another slyly smiled, and all concluded with one voice that he was a most dangerous eccentric. V At first they all would call on him, but since to the back porch habitually a Don stallion 4 for him was brought as soon as one made out along the highway the sound of their domestic runabouts — outraged by such behavior, 8 they all ceased to be friends with him. “Our neighbor is a boor; acts like a crackbrain; he's a Freemason; he drinks only red wine, by the tumbler; 12 he won't go up ...

2. Eugene Onegin. A Novel in Verse by Aleksandr Pushkin. Chapter eight

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Часть текста: us with wings; the aged Derzhavin noticed us — and blessed us 4 as he descended to the grave. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 12 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . III And I, setting myself for law only the arbitrary will of passions, sharing emotions with the crowd, 4 I led my frisky Muse into the hubbub of feasts and turbulent discussions — the terror of midnight patrols; and to them, in mad feasts, 8 she brought her gifts, and like a little bacchante frisked, over the bowl sang for the guests; and the young people of past days 12 would turbulently dangle after her; and I was proud 'mong friends of my volatile mistress. IV But I dropped out of their alliance — and fled afar... she followed me. How often the caressive Muse 4 for me would sweeten the mute way with the bewitchment of a secret tale! How often on Caucasia's crags, Lenorelike, by the moon, 8 with me she'd gallop on a steed! How often on the shores of Tauris she in the gloom of night led me to listen the sound of the sea, 12 Nereid's unceasing murmur, the deep eternal chorus of the billows, the praiseful hymn to the sire of the worlds. V And the far capital's glitter and noisy...

3. Lolita. Part Two. Chapters 9 - 16

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Часть текста: was on the other hand a good example of a not strikingly beautiful child revealing to the perspicacious amateur some of the basic elements of nymphet charm, such as a perfect pubescent figure and lingering eyes and high cheekbones. Her glossy copper hair had Lolita’s silkiness, and the features of her delicate milky-white face with pink lips and silverfish eyelashes were less foxy than those of her likesthe great clan of intra-racial redheads; nor did she sport their green uniform but wore, as I remember her, a lot of black or cherry darka very smart black pullover, for instance, and high-heeled black shoes, and garnet-red fingernail polish. I spoke French to her (much to Lo’s disgust). The child’s tonalities were still admirably pure, but for school words and play words she resorted to current American and then a slight Brooklyn accent would crop up in her speech, which was amusing in a little Parisian who went to a select New England school with phoney British aspirations. Unfortunately, despite “that French kid’s uncle” being “a...

4. Lolita. Part Two. Chapters 32 - 36

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Часть текста: special plastic floor or a movie matinee to which she wanted to go alone), I happened to glimpse from the bathroom, through a chance combination of mirror aslant and door ajar, a look on her face… that look I cannot exactly describe… an expression of helplessness so perfect that it seemed to grade into one of rather comfortable inanity just because this was the very limit of injustice and frustrationand every limit presupposes something beyond ithence the neutral illumination. And when you bear in mind that these were the raised eyebrows and parted lips of a child, you may better appreciate what depths of calculated carnality, what reflected despair, restrained me from falling at her dear feet and dissolving in human tears, and sacrificing my jealousy to whatever pleasure Lolita might hope to derive from mixing with dirty and dangerous children in an outside world that was real to her. And I have still other smothered memories, now unfolding themselves into limbless monsters of pain. Once, in a sunset-ending street of Beardsley, she turned to little Eva Rosen (I was taking both nymphets to a concert and walking behind them so close as almost to touch them with my person), she turned to Eva, and so very serenely and seriously, in answer to something the other had said about its being better to die than hear Milton Pinski, some local schoolboy she knew, talk about music, my Lolita remarked: “You know, what’s so dreadful about dying is that you are completely on your own”; and it struck me, as my...

5. Eugene Onegin. A Novel in Verse by Aleksandr Pushkin. Chapter one

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Часть текста: of high thoughts and simplicity. But so be it. With partial hand take this collection of pied chapters: half droll, half sad, 12 plain-folk, ideal, the careless fruit of my amusements, insomnias, light inspirations, unripe and withered years, 16 the intellect's cold observations, and the heart's sorrowful remarks. CHAPTER ONE To live it hurries and to feel it hastes. Prince Vyazemski I “My uncle has most honest principles: when he was taken gravely ill, he forced one to respect him 4 and nothing better could invent. To others his example is a lesson; but, good God, what a bore to sit by a sick person day and night, not stirring 8 a step away! What base perfidiousness to entertain one half-alive, adjust for him his pillows, 12 sadly serve him his medicine, sigh — and think inwardly when will the devil take you?” II Thus a young scapegrace thought as with post horses in the dust he flew, by the most lofty will of Zeus 4 the heir of all his kin. Friends of Lyudmila and Ruslan! The hero of my novel, without...

6. Интервью Набокова на английском языке. Anonymous, 1962 г.

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Часть текста: being a person with no public appeal. I have never been drunk in my life. I never use schoolboy words of four letters. I have never worked in an office or in a coal mine. I have never belonged to any club or group. No creed or school has had any influence on me whatsoever. Nothing bores me more than political novels and the literature of social intent. Still there must be things that move you-- likes and dislikes. My loathings are simple: stupidity, oppression, crime, cruelty, soft music. My pleasures are the most intense known to man: writing and butterfly hunting. You write everything in longhand, don't you? Yes. I cannot type. Would you agree to show us a sample of your rough drafts? I'm afraid I must refuse. Only ambitious nonentities and hearty mediocrities exhibit their rough drafts. It is like passing around samples of one's sputum. Do you read many new novels? Why do you laugh? I laugh because well-meaning publishers keep sending me-- with "hope-you-will-like-it-as-much-as-we-do" letters - only one kind of fiction: novels truffled with obscenities, fancy words, and would-be weird incidents. They seem to be all by one and the same writer-- who is not even the shadow of my shadow. What is your opinion of the so-called "anti-novel" in France? I am not interested in groups, movements, schools of writing and so forth. I am interested only in the individual artist. This "anti-novel" does not really exist; but there does exist one great French writer, Robbe-Grillet; his work is grotesquely imitated by a number of banal scribblers whom a phony label assists commercially. I notice you "haw" and "er"a great deal. Is it a sign of approaching senility? Not at all. I have always been a wretched...

7. Lolita. Part One. Chapters 12 - 17

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Часть текста: that could be reached at last by my awkward, aching, timid clawswould have certainly landed me again in a sanatorium, had not the devil realized that I was to be granted some relief if he wanted to have me as a plaything for some time longer. The reader has also marked the curious Mirage of the Lake. It would have been logical on the part of Aubrey McFate (as I would like to dub that devil of mine) to arrange a small treat for me on the promised beach, in the presumed forest. Actually, the promise Mrs. Haze had made was a fraudulent one: she had not told me that Mary Rose Hamilton (a dark little beauty in her own right) was to come too, and that the two nymphets would be whispering apart, and playing apart, and having a good time all by themselves, while Mrs. Haze and her handsome lodger conversed sedately in the seminude, far from prying eyes. Incidentally, eyes did pry and tongues did wag. How queer life is! We hasten to alienate the very fates we intended to woo. Before my actual arrival, my landlady had planned to have an old spinster, a Miss Phalen, whose mother had been cook in Mrs. Haze’s family, come to stay in the house with Lolita and me, while Mrs. Haze, a career girl at heart, sought some suitable job in the nearest city. Mrs. Haze had seen the whole situation very clearly: the bespectacled, round-backed Herr Humbert coming with his Central-European trunks to gather dust in his corner behind a heap of old books; the unloved ugly little daughter firmly supervised by Miss Phalen who had already once had my Lo under her buzzard wing...

8. Комментарий к роману "Евгений Онегин". Глава восьмая. Пункты ХХIII- XXX

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Часть текста: смеются. Входят гости. Вот крупной солью светской злости Стал оживляться разговор; 8 Перед хозяйкой легкий вздор Сверкал без глупого жеманства, И прерывал его меж тем Разумный толк без пошлых тем, 12 Без вечных истин, без педантства, И не пугал ничьих ушей Свободной живостью своей. 3—4 Первоначально (варианты беловой рукописи и отвергнутые чтения) муж Татьяны и Онегин вспоминали «затеи, мненья… друзей, красавиц прежних лет», а это служит доказательством того, что князь N не мог быть старше Онегина более чем на полдюжины лет, и следовательно, ему было тридцать с небольшим. В опубликованном тексте знаменитой политико-патриотической речи, по сути рассчитанной на дешевый эффект, произнесенной 8 июня 1880 г. на открытом заседании Общества любителей российской словесности перед истерически возбужденной аудиторией, Федор Достоевский, сильно переоцененный, сентиментальный романист, писавший в готическом духе, пространно разглагольствуя о пушкинской Татьяне как о «положительном типе русской женщины», пребывает в странном заблуждении, будто ее муж был «почтенным старцем». Он также считает, что Онегин «скитался по...

9. Lolita. Part One. Chapters 9 - 11

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Часть текста: offered me: it consisted mainly of thinking up and editing perfume ads. I welcomed its desultory character and pseudoliterary aspects, attending to it whenever I had nothing better to do. On the other hand, I was urged by a war-time university in New York to complete my comparative history of French literature for English-speaking students. The first volume took me a couple of years during which I put in seldom less than fifteen hours of work daily. As I look back on those days, I see them divided tidily into ample light and narrow shade: the light pertaining to the solace of research in palatial libraries, the shade to my excruciating desires and insomnias of which enough has been said. Knowing me by now, the reader can easily imagine how dusty and hot I got, trying to catch a glimpse of nymphets (alas, always remote) playing in Central Park, and how repulsed I was by the glitter of deodorized career girls that a gay dog in one of the offices kept unloading upon me. Let us skip all that. A dreadful breakdown sent me to a sanatorium for more than a year; I went back to my workonly to be hospitalized again. Robust outdoor life seemed to promise me some relief. One of my favorite doctors, a charming cynical chap with a little brown beard, had a brother, and this brother was about to lead an expedition into arctic Canada. I was attached to it as a “recorder of psychic reactions.” With two young botanists and an old carpenter I shared now and then (never very successfully) the favors of one of our nutritionists, a ...

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Часть текста: 106 и заканчивая чисто стилистическими проблемами. Несмотря на такой, казалось бы, всесторонний подход к изучению романа, остается целый ряд вопросов, решение которых позволит не только высветить новые грани произведения, но и пересмотреть традиционное представление о происходящем на страницах книги. Одним из таких белых пятен является вопрос о литературной полемике Набокова с фрейдистской концепцией творчества и о роли иронии в этом споре. В. Набоков начинает писать «Лолиту» в 1949 году и заканчивает в 1954 (русская версия 1963-1965 гг.), именно в это время в Америке наблюдается небывалый интерес к психоанализу и его родоначальнику З. Фрейду. Концепция, претендующая на универсальное объяснение природы человека и развития общества, но при этом опирающаяся исключительно на биологические и поведенческие процессы общения сознания с подсознанием, становится поистине новой религией. Любой взгляд на человека как на существо в первую очередь духовное оспаривается учением венского психолога. Если речь идет о цели жизни, то она «просто задана принципом удовольствия» , формула «возлюби ближнего» заменяется «homo homin' lupus est», любовь как основа существования вытесняется сексуальным влечением. Стремление человека к духовному совершенствованию, его жажда неведомого объясняется единственно следствием вытесненных влечений: «Вытесненное влечение никогда не перестает стремиться к полному удовлетворению, которое состоит в повторении в первый раз пережитого удовлетворения; все замещения, реактивные образования и сублимация недостаточны, чтобы прекратить его сдерживаемое напряжение, и из разности между полученным и требуемым удовольствием от удовлетворения влечения возникает побуждающий момент, который и не позволяет останавливаться ни на одной из...

Поиск по творчеству и критикеCлово "FRUIT"

Поиск по творчеству и критике
Cлово "FRUIT"